


Miscellaneous things regarding Cordelia [1/?]

by Breachy_Breeches



Series: Cordelia Eilidh Cousland [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Growth, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Long Hair, POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 10:52:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18072035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breachy_Breeches/pseuds/Breachy_Breeches
Summary: There's always something that one might find difficult to get rid off, or perhaps refuse to let go: vices, virtues, objects of affection, items of sentimentality, places of nostalgia, rituals of wisdom, tics of remnants, ...prayers of vengeance.---





	Miscellaneous things regarding Cordelia [1/?]

Since the days of the Alamarri, passed down to their descendants, it is a tradition for the Couslands to cease any grooming other than what is necessary as a sign of grief, especially if the deceased is one of the parents. While the Maker has gifted the soul and the heart, one's mortal body is given to them by the parent's flesh and blood.

With the Castle seized and no ashes to mourn, for Cordelia, her hair had become such physical manifestation, a silent oath to her father and her family; to stop the Blight and bring justice to Rendon Howe. The charred tips of her hair reminded her of the scorching fire that very night, as the stone wall crumbles, the residents screamed, and the last image of her father laying in a pool of blood and mother, who chose to stay behind with her husband, etched into her very soul.

Her voluminous raven hair would often be all gnarled, tangled and puffed up like a lion's mane. That might take hours to brush it thoroughly if they had time to spare. If one gathered all the loose locks (and perhaps some mabari fur shedding) in her tent every couple days, it would be enough to create a suitable bird's nest.

There are moments where loose strands that got in the way of her vision where she simply pushes them behind her ears. At times that long mane has become her bane, and almost cost Cordelia her life.

\---

Leliana had offered to trim it short for Cordelia, and no doubt she would do an excellent job.

However, she had refused. Such a decision had piqued the bard's and several other companions' interest, as her hair had evidently become inconvenient on several occasions.

When questioned, Cordelia expressed she could not answer. For the burden was hers and her's alone. As the de facto leader of the group in this very time of the Blight, she must steel herself and there was no time to be sentimental.

Most importantly, she knew, when the memory so fresh and fire of hatred yet to be tempered, she knew she would simply break down there and then, unable to recover.

That one time when Alistair asked if she had lost anyone important to her as he had lost Duncan, she almost spilt. With a heavy sigh, she holds her emotion steady and answered the fellow Warden plainly. Alistair apologized immediately. Cordelia shakes her head and expresses she is not offended. She cannot fault him for asking, as she understands what it is like and he means well.

To Cordelia's astonishment and perhaps everyone's, Morrigan was the first person, along with Zevran, to stand in her defence and chastised the rest of the group for prying into someone else's privacy.

Cordelia thanked them soon afterwards. While the Crow simply smiled and nodded, the Witch of the Wilds scoffed at the expression of gratitude, saying that she does not care for gossips when there is a more important task to attend to.

Yet when Cordelia gazed upon the dark-haired woman, the golden eyes were softened with worry. It was then Cordelia knew, she could share her deepest secrets and would not be betrayed.

Hair braiding was first prompted by Leliana as the solution to Cordelia's overlong hair, then gradually became a frequent favourite bonding activity with each other during their downtime at camp.

Occasionally the group contest amongst who can do the most elaborate hairstyles for Cordelia.

Leliana's are extravagant and gorgeous, core to every maiden's heart and dream.

Zevran's are exquisite and alluring, like an exotic beauty from a faraway land.

Wynne's are simple and elegant, with much temperance and wisdom.

Alistair's are a bit sloppy but nonetheless adorable, like home and timeless warmth.

Sten might even join in from time to time, "Showing how it is done under the Qun" he said. The Quanri's style is firm and practical, and Cordelia never had to worry any hair sticking out for the rest of the day.

Morrigan would take much convincing, but eventually, she would yield to the constant plead and anticipation of the Warden. Her's are tribal and wild, adorned with colourful beads, like the tales of warrior women that Cordelia has heard much of in her childhood.

Shale never participated but once in a blue moon, the golem would offer shiny gems she happened to collect along the way for Cordelia to decorate her hair.

Oghren just sits by and watches, and joins in on the laughter while enjoying his alcohol.

And the mabari? He was just happy that his mistress is having a great time.

\---

The Gauntlet at Temple of Sacred Ashes was where she shed her first tears in many months. Cordelia had thought it was all drained and dried up that very night.

She knows it was a spirit conjuring a familiar form, and yet here she is, eyes watered at the sight and voice of the ghost of her father.

She understands now, to acknowledge the pain and the guilt and let go. It will take time, she isn't alone.

\---

Underneath the mansion that belongs to the Arl of Denerim, in the deep ends of cobblestone, with moss growing from each crevice.

Chains lay on the walls, with hammered metal shackles on the floor. In the air hung the scent of death... and suffering.

At last, she came to face Rendon Howe, the murder of her family, the nemesis in her nightmares.

As her family’s sword sank into his heart with one hand, strangling the last breath out of him with her long braided hair. The moment Howe went limp, she feels...calm.

So tranquil that it almost frightened her. This isn't her first kill, and wouldn't be the last. However, this one, in particular, seems to have a large weight on her shoulders lifted and burden in her heart gone.

As she glances at the fallen corpse, she can only see an entity that consumes power and greed and was in return devoured by it. How fitting it is where he last stands.

Cordelia whispered prayers to the Maker and his bride Prophet Andraste, thanking them for their guidance and forgiveness on this cruel world.

The hurts are gradually soothed by these moments spend together and become Cordelia's treasured memories, that she reminisces often upon fondly.

The scars remain and always will. It is what forged her into what she is now.

Her mind unwavering and blade will always strike true.

\---

Her brother Fergus survived and returned, and the Cousland Castle reclaimed, Cordelia and her betrothed King Alistair took some time off and went to visit Highever.

Cordelia stands at the peak of a cliff, the wind is strong and the rain drizzled on her delicate face. The moment is perfect.

She untied her hair loose and hands the ceremonial dagger with Cousland crest to her beloved fiancé. "Will you do the honours? My love."

"I'm going to the miss your long hair, you know."

"It will grow back long enough for the wedding."

When the moment the dagger cut through her hair, she felt her head become noticeably lighter.

Cordelia gazed upon the thick lock of hair that was once part of her one last time, she extends her hand and released it from her grasp.

Watching them scatter with the wind, Cordelia smiled.

Finally, a new chapter can begin.


End file.
